


Welcome Home

by Dark_and_night



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: F/M, First Meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: You're having a quiet night when you hear a knock on your door.
Relationships: Frankenstein's Creature/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 169





	1. Chapter 1

It was raining, bit that wasn’t new. It seemed to be raining more often these days. Most roads were washed out, and the ground sank beneath your feet when you stepped outside. It felt as if you were suddenly living in a marsh. 

You sighed, looking out the window into the night. A flash of lightening briefly illuminated the world outside your small cottage before once again becoming enveloped in darkness. Vaguely, you wondered if the rain would bring mushrooms you could collect once things dried up a bit. It could save you a trip into town.

The tea kettle started to whistle, tearing you away from the window. Your dog Marry whined from her spot on the floor, offended by the whistle that woke her from her nap. 

“Sorry.” You chuckled, leaning down to pat her head before taking the kettle off of the stove, pouring yourself a cup of tea.

Marry rose, her tail still as she stared at the door. A low growl rumbled in her chest as she took a tentative step towards the door.

“It’s just a storm, Marry, just like every other night this week.” You chuckled, leaning on the counter. “You should know by now that the storm won’t hurt us now.”

Usually, the sound of your calm voice would stop Mary from growling. Mary, however, stepped closer to the door, her hair standing up as she began to bark.

“Mary!” You walked over to her, petting her back in a futile attempt to calm her. “Mary, what’s wrong?”

Her barking grew louder, baring her teeth as someone knocked on the door.

Your back stiffened, looking from Mary to the door. Her parking persisted, and the person behind the door knocked again, softer this time. 

Slowly, you rose from her side, uncertainly looking at the door. It was too late at night for visitors. Respectable visitors, anyway.

You shuffled to the door, putting your hand on the lock. “Who’s there?” You called through the door.

“Please.” A deep voice came from the other side of the wood. “Please, I just need shelter.”

Mary’s barking grew louder as she put her front paws against the door, as if to barricade it. 

“Mary!” You snapped. “Mary, into the bedroom!” 

She continued barking, ignoring your scolding. You grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, dragging her away from the door. She growled, baring her teeth as you dragged her away, shoving her into your bedroom and closing the door before she could jump out. Her barking continued through the door, but it was just muffled enough to allow you to think.

You walked back to the door, putting your hand on it. 

“It’s a bit late to trust the goodwill of strangers.” You called, unsure of what to do. 

“I understand.” The deep voice said, his voice cracking. “But I am so cold, I had to try.”

Sighing, you slowly turned the lock, opening the door a crack. 

A large man stood on the other side of the door, drenched from head to toe. His black hair was stuck to his face, water streaming down his face. His face looked ashen, miscolored, though you thought perhaps it was just too dark to see him properly. A hood was over his head, though it had proven little shelter from the pouring rain. 

He was frowning, his eyes tired. He was shivering, but he made no move to step inside, as you were still blocking the door with your body.

“Please, let me warm myself by your fireplace, and I’ll be out of your sight.” His teeth chattered as he spoke, pulling his cloak tighter around himself. 

You found yourself staring at him, marveling at his stature. “I’ll let you in, but only long enough to get warm.”

He let out a tired chuckle, shaking his head. “It’s all I ask.”

Stepping out of the doorway, the large man stepped inside, trailing water behind him. He spotted the fire, rushing towards it and squatting by it and holding out his hands, rubbing them together. You closed the door, your heart and brain both telling you that you shouldn’t have let this stranger into your house. 

The man didn’t seem to notice you as he tossed another log onto the fire. He seemed to truly just be focused on warmth. A pool of water started forming on the ground around him, the rainwater dripping from his clothes.

“I don’t have any clothes in your size.” You said slowly, walking around him back to the kitchen, grabbing your tea. It was still warm, with wisps of steam coming from the liquid.

He chuckled that same tired chuckle as before. “People rarely do.”

You walked over to him, kneeling down by his side, trying to get a better look at this stranger. He glanced at you before looking back at the fire, turning his face away from you.

His skin still seemed to be a grayish green color, even in the light of your home. Regardless, he was a handsome man.

“Here, this will warm you.” You held out your tea to him. He glanced back at you, holding out his hand and taking the mug from you. As your fingers brushed, you felt how cold his skin was. He quickly retracted his hand, looking back at the fire.

You shivered in empathetic cold, standing and rubbing your hand where you two had touched. 

“I have warm blankets and towels.” You continued rubbing your hand, gooseflesh rising on your arms. “Remove that wet cloak and I’ll bring you both.”

“I appreciate your generosity, and your trust.” He took a sip of the tea before laying it down on the hearth, removing his cloak. You took it, disgusted by how drenched it was. 

Underneath the cloak, his shirt clung to his chest, the white material nearly completely transparent. Regardless of his odd skin tone, his muscles and physique made you blush.

“Well, I can’t leave someone in the cold and rain.” You mumbled, taking the cloak to the bathroom, laying it down in your tub, grabbing a towel. You brought it back to the man, draping it over his shoulders. 

“There are many who can and do.” He said, rubbing the towel on his hair. 

You took a blanket, folding it and holding it in your arms as he dried himself as best he could without stripping out of his wet clothes. “Do you have a name?”

He paused, glancing back at you. “Would you believe me if I said I didn’t?”

“No.” You said honestly, shifting from foot to foot. “But if you have business I’d be better off not knowing, then please don’t tell me. I’d rather not get involved.”

He took a long drink of the tea, gulping it all down regardless of how hot it was. “That’s probably for the best.”

“Well, here.” You put the blanket over his shoulders, admiring his form. It was almost as if he was sculpted by someone who wanted to create a perfect human being. 

Offering you a small smile, he rose, pulling the blanket tighter around him. “Thank you.”

You nodded, searching his face for any malice and finding none. It felt foolish to trust a stranger, but you didn’t want to bring him in just to send him back out into the rain.

“You can stay the night.” You said slowly, remembering Mary was still in your bedroom. She was a large dog, she could protect you. “You can sleep here, in the living room.”

He smiled a bit wider, the smile finally meeting his eyes. “Thank you. I promise I’ll replay you.”

“There’s no need for that.” You smiled back. “Just get warm, and get some rest.”

He shuffled to the couch, sitting down on it, the old furniture creaking under his large form. He leaned back, closing his eyes, looking as though it was the first time in a long time he had been able to rest. 

“Thank you.” He breathed.


	2. The Next Morning

All through the night, you tossed and turned, unable to truly let yourself relax with a stranger in your home. It felt foolish, to allow a perfect stranger into your home, and such a tall and muscular one at that. If he had ill intent, there would be very little that you could do to defend yourself. 

At some point in the night, you must have fallen into a light sleep, because you awoke to Mary growling at the bedroom door. 

Being still semi-conscious and not fully aware of the situation, you stumbled to the bedroom door, forgetting about your houseguest and assuming that she had to go outside. You opened the door, your vision blurry from lack of sleep.

Mary shot out of your bedroom like a bullet from a gun, racing to the man asleep on your couch and sinking her teeth into his leg.

The man shouted in surprise and pain, shooting up, awoken from his deep sleep.

“Mary!” You shouted as you remembered your situation. “Bad!” You raced to the man, who was now stumbling around, wrapping your arms around your dog. “Put it down! Leave it!”

The man panted in pain as Mary let go of his leg, falling back into the couch, blood oozing from his leg in an unnatural manner. You had no time to ponder that as you dragged Mary outside, her continuing to bark and growl as you practically tossed her out the front door, slamming the door behind you as she fought to get back inside. 

“Mary, down!” You shouted, your back against the door as you looked over to the man, who was now clutching his leg and hissing in pain through his teeth.

He noticed you walking over, a look of concern on your face. He offered a small smile, still clutching to his leg. “I suppose I’ve overstayed my welcome, then?”

“I am so sorry!” You apologized, falling to your knees to look at his wound. “I forgot you were here, I thought she had to go outside-!”

“It’s fine.” He murmured, his voice low and gravely from sleep. “I suppose I should take my leave.” 

“No! Not while you’re hurt.” You gently touched his knee, ignoring the position that you were in with this stranger. “Please, let me look at it.”

He offered you a strained smile, gingerly rolling up his pant leg, jerking a bit as he accidentally grazed his wound. 

You frowned as you looked at his wound, guilt surging through you. If you’d just remembered that he was sleeping out here, he wouldn’t have gotten bitten by your dog. 

“I have some alcohol.” You stood, heading over to your cabinet, grabbing the bottle and a rag. 

“I’m sure it would ease the pain.” He joked, leaning back in his seat, closing his eyes. 

Kneeling down beside him, you poured the alcohol onto the rag, gently dabbing his bite. He stiffened, blowing air out his nose. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” You mumbled, gently pressing the rag to his leg, the oozing blood barely absorbing. Everything about him, from his unnatural looks, the grayness of his skin, and now even his blood seemed off. 

The man shook his head. “I don’t blame you.”

You glanced up at him, still in awe of his features. “I can’t let you go while you’re injured.”

He opened his eyes, glancing down at you. “I’ve already intruded too long.”

Shaking your head, you carefully wrapped the rag around his leg. “No, I can’t allow it. Rest right here, I’ll make some tea and breakfast.” You stood, hurrying to the kitchen and grabbing the teapot.

Chuckling, he looked down at his leg, grateful that you hadn’t tried to roll up his pant leg farther. If you had, you would have seen the stitches that started just below his knee. Sometimes he would look at the thin scars that spanned his body and chuckle at the thought that a man could have the calves worthy of this artificial body, but not have worthy thighs. It was funny in a way that only he could find entertaining. All others would call it sick.

You filled the teapot, pulling out two cups. You’d have to get eggs from the chicken coop outside, but that would mean having to keep Mary out of the house and away from this man. No, you had bread, maybe just toast with butter for breakfast? No, this man was too large for such a small meal.

“I truly don’t want to impose.” The man called as he rolled down his pant. 

“Please, all I did was allow you to sleep on a couch without blankets just for you to be bitten by my dog.” You put the teabags in the cups. 

A smile played on his lips as he looked at you. You seemed like a kind person, kinder than most people he encountered. He wouldn’t hold a grudge about your dog, most animals didn’t seem to take to him. He liked to joke to himself that there must have been a body part donated from a very cruel man on his body somewhere for animals to hate him so persistently. And now he even knew which body part must have come from a hateful man; his calf. Why else would your dog have gone straight for it?

He kept smiling to himself as the kettle started blowing, wishing that he could tell the joke to you. Maybe you’d laugh. 

“Here you go.” You walked over, handing him his tea. “Does it hurt?”

“Just a little.” He took it, giving you a smile and a nod. “I’ll be fine.”

You sat next to him, sipping your own tea, still mulling over if you wanted to risk Mary getting back into the house to get the eggs when the man cleared his throat.

“If truth be told,” he started, taking a sip of his tea, “I don’t really have anywhere to go. I could help you around this small farm in exchange for a roof over my head and food, for a time. If you don’t mind.”

Glancing over at him, you contemplated his offer. If he were to hurt you, he would have simply done it overnight, wouldn’t he? And it wouldn’t hurt to have someone as big and strong as him around for a time. Then again, he would be in constant danger of a dog bite if he stayed.

The silence hung over the two of you as you thought it over. Finally, you cleared your throat. “Okay. Will you gave me your name?”

He smiled; as nameless as the day he was created. “I’ll give you mine if you give me yours, then.”

“(Y/N).” You held out your hand.

He shook it, contemplating what name he should give. In all technicality, he had as many names as he had stolen body parts. Well, why not the name of his father? It was just as much his name as a child’s name belonged to their parents’.

“I suppose you could call me Frankenstein.” He let go of your hand, an odd feeling of guilt settling in his chest at using the name of the man who wanted him dead. “It’s my family name.”


	3. Water From the Well

He sighed softly, tilting his head back to feel the sunlight on his skin. It felt comforting to be out in the open without fear. And the breeze was just cold enough to feel comforting, the feeling evening out the warmth of the sun. He rolled up his sleeves, wanting to feel more of the sunlight. If he were on his own, he might have removed his shirt altogether, but he wasn’t.

He was sitting on a pile of firewood he had chopped himself. He had allowed himself a break, taking a bit of time to turn the firewood into an impromptu throne of knobby and splintering bits of log. It wasn’t too uncomfortable for him though, he had gotten used to sleeping on far worse things than this. 

Breathing out a content sigh, he heard the door to the house open. He smiled to himself when he heard you step outside. The smile faded when he heard Mary run out after you.

“Mary!” You called. “Mary, stay close!” You sighed and chuckled, shaking your head. If she bit your guest again you’d never forgive yourself. 

The guest in question stayed where he was, not opening his eyes just yet. He heard Mary run around his little throne, her sniffing the wood until she spotted him. He could tell because she immediately started growling. He stayed still, listening and bracing himself for another bite in his leg. 

“Mary!” You snapped, hurrying over. You leaned down by her side, wrapping your arms around her neck to still her. “You can’t keep threatening Mr. Frankenstein!”

Chuckling, he opened up his eye to see you holding your dog back. “Thank you for keeping me safe from such a vicious beast.”

You laughed, scratching Mary behind her ears. “She’s just protective of me, is all.”

“A good companion to have, then.” He smiled, carefully adjusting in his seat, earning another growl from Mary.

“She is.” You confirmed, smiling at him. “I tried to keep her inside.”

“I understand.” He replied, shifting so that his hair blocked your view of his face. Your smile faltered at that. He often tried to hide his appearance from you if at all possible. 

You didn’t understand his persistence in that endeavor, because you had seen what he looks like, it was impossible not to see what he looked like. No amount of turning away or spending time outside could chance the fact that his skin was yellowish green or gray depending on the lighting. It couldn’t hide the scars you’d seen on his body, and it couldn’t hide the strange color of his eyes or the fact he was eight feet in height. However, these things, though unnerving, couldn’t overshadow his gentleness, his eagerness to learn and work, or the softness of his voice. 

“Mr. Frankenstein?” You said, tentatively letting Mary go now that her growling had calmed.

“Hmm?” He tilted his head slightly, his blackish lips spreading into a smile. 

Rising from the ground, you tentatively walked over to him, earning a new round of growls from Mary. You held out a hand to her, shushing her softly. You turned back to the man, smiling slightly. “Can I try to show her you’re not a threat?”

His eyebrows raised in surprise, shying away from your approach. “How?”

“Just something simple.” You stood by his side, turning to Mary. “Give me your hand.”

He swallowed slightly, carefully holding out his hand to you, wishing he had rolled his sleeves back down to hide more of himself. 

Mary gave a soft warning bark, when you took his hand in yours, but you smiled at her, talking to her in a high-pitched voice. “See, Mr. Frankenstein is our friend. See?” You pressed your palm against his, spreading out your fingers until your hands were pressed together. “See Mary, it’s okay.”

While you were busy trying to persuade your dog not to bite your new farmhand, the creature was distracted by the feeling of your palm against his.

His eyes were wide, his ears unhearing as he stared at your hand as if it was something foreign. And it was. The gentle touch of another living soul was something completely foreign to him. Especially touch for the sake of touch. 

Your palm was warm, and your fingers so much smaller than his. The two of you didn’t even look like the same species. And your skin was so soft. You had some callouses from working in this home alone for so long, but it was still so much softer than his own leathery palms. 

He gasped softly as you laced your fingers into his, still cooing to Mary. He still couldn’t make out your words, so distracted by what your hands were doing. Slowly, he curled his fingers until the two of you were holding hands properly. His hand was shaking, god he hoped that you didn’t notice that.

You knelt down, still holding his hand, holding your other hand out to Mary. “Friends. Friends, Mary. See?”

Mary huffed, trotting over to you and licking your cheek. You laughed, nuzzling your face into her fur, hugging her with your free arm. 

“You’re getting it, girl!” You grinned, moving to pull your hand out of Mr. Frankenstein’s grip, to find that your hand was completely stuck in his grasp. 

You looked back at him, opening your mouth to tell him that it was okay to let your hand go, but his expression stopped you. 

He was staring at your interlocked hands, his brows knit together. He looked as though he was going to cry. His mouth was slightly open, his breath coming out in soft, raggedy gasps. His thumb slowly moved down yours, lightly tickling you. 

“Mr. Frankenstein?” You whispered, unsure how to read this situation. 

Gasping again, he abruptly dropped your hand, coming back to himself. “I’m so sorry.” He said, looking at you. 

“That’s fine.” You continued petting Mary, who was currently the closest she had ever gotten to him and for once not growling. “Thank you, she seems to have stopped violently hating you, at the very least.”

He chuckled, rising from his seat. Mary tensed beside you, but she didn’t growl.

“That’s good.” He looked down at the hand you had just been holding before looking back at you, obviously distracted. “I’m going to draw some water from the well. I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Oh, okay.” You watched as he walked off, raising your eyebrows slightly. Mary wormed out of your hold, going back to sniffing around on the ground, instantly more relaxed now that he was gone. You turned your attention to her, sitting on the seat made of firewood to watch her.

The creature, meanwhile, walked towards the well, unable to tear his eyes away from his hand. He could still feel the ghost of your warmth on his flesh. Every other time the two of you had touched, well, the only other times you two had touched had been for a reason. When you bandaged his leg because Mary bit him, and the handshake the two of you shared when he introduced himself with his creator’s name. 

Intimacy. That’s what intimacy felt like. 

He touched his palm as he came to the well, his chest welling with a feeling he didn’t want to feel. The urge to love and be loved. 

Shaking his head, he focused on drawing water from the well. All you had done was give him a temporary home in exchange for work. He couldn’t push his wants onto you. You were just a kind soul, that had to be it.


	4. Repay You

He found himself looking at you. Even when he knew he had no business looking at you that way. For his entire existence, he hadn’t even known that he was able to feel ‘that way.’ 

The fact of the matter was, he wasn’t just broken. He was made up of all of the broken bits and pieces of other people. Sewn together like a patchwork quilt, then shunned by the very person who had made him. How was he supposed to know that he had the same urges as others? He just hadn’t met anyone like you to bring those dangerous feelings to the surface before. 

The feelings, the urges, the needs – they came to him at the most random times, to the point that he had no idea when he would suddenly be overwhelmed just by the sight of you. The sight of your hands, working on a needlepoint or cooking dinner for the two of you. He wanted to kiss those fingertips. When you put up your hair and he could see the back of your neck. He wanted to kiss the skin there, even bite it and hear the sounds that would come from you. When a chill made its way through the house and goosebumps rose on your flesh. He wanted to run his hands over your skin, warm you, make you heated again, more so than before.

Greater than the urges was the shame. He was a guest in your home and he looked at you with the kind of lust that could only be described as biblical. Every time he so much as glanced at a bit of skin he wanted to take you in his arms and show you that he was a man. That he was more than a farmhand, more than a guest, more than a monster. He wanted to be your lover, your husband, he wanted to touch you in the late hours of the night when the rest of the world was asleep.

Doing the farm work helped. It helped distract him from looking at you. It wore out his body and tired him out. It reminded him why he was there. Because you were kind, and you took in a stranger no matter how unsafe that had made you. 

He sat on the couch after a particularly hard day, wiping off his forehead off with a rag. Objectively, it was a small farm, in fact it barely counted as a farm, but the labor was still hard.

You looked up from the stove, smiling, though there was a hint of guilt in your eyes. “I’m sorry. I wish I could pay you in money.”

Forcing a smile, he looked at you, straightening up. “My payment is living here, remember?”

“Well, it still seems like it’s not enough.” You said, stirring the soup for dinner. “Since you’ve started helping, it feels like I don’t do anything around here anymore.”

He chuckled, dragging his eyes slowly up and down your body as you turned back to your task. He thought that it wouldn’t hurt anything just to look, especially since he was so tired from working all day. Quickly, he realized how wrong he was when he found himself picturing what it would be like if he was allowed to wrap his arms around your waist, pressing his chest against your back. Kiss your ear and find a way to make you abandon your task, to get your full attention on him. 

“-stein?” 

Jolting in surprise, he looked up at you, realizing with shame that he had lost himself in his own mind once more. “What?”

You smiled, the curve of your lips causing his lower abdomen to tighten in a sinful way. “I said, if you want to wash up before dinner you can. And then you didn’t reply, so I said, ‘Mr. Frankenstein?’”

“I’m so sorry.” He rubbed his forehead, rising from the couch. “I’m not in my right mind today.”

“It happens to the best of us.” You chuckled. “I got the bath ready while you were outside. It’s probably still hot.”

Walking over, he offered you a tired smile. “Thank you.”

“Oh!” You turned from the stove, hurrying into your bedroom. He raised an eyebrow when you came out, holding up a large pair of pants and a simple green shirt proudly. “I finally finished them! These should fit you, so you aren’t stuck wearing that one outfit so often.” 

“You take care of me. Too much care. I was supposed to be the one repaying you.” He reached out to take the clothes, his hands accidentally brushing yours as he took them in his arms. It couldn’t have been more than a moment, but it sent heat all throughout his body. 

Turning away, he mumbled a thank you before hurrying into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

The steam from the water only made his situation worse as he undressed, trying with all his might not to think anymore about you, or your kindness, or your smile, or your skin. He just wanted to be rid of these feelings. 

He stepped into the tub, sinking down into the water, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He knew where some of the problem was coming from. He didn’t like touching himself, because he would often become disgusted by the fact that it wasn’t truly his. But, worrying about that made just as much sense as worrying about whether his hand or his face was truly his. He had to accept that he was what he was, and no amount of philosophy or faux morality would change that.

Besides, his cock was erect, and he knew that this wasn’t a problem that would just go away. Not with the rate of his want for you. He had to take care of this, and maybe his libido would calm itself.

Slowly, he began to stroke himself, tensing at the feeling. God, he was sensitive, his body had been crying out for this. He squeezed himself harder, for once allowing his mind to imagine whatever he wanted involving you. 

In his mind, you had offered to bathe him. You had stripped him down yourself, your hands leaving trails of fire over his skin. You saw his surgical scars but said nothing, instead kissing one on his shoulder as you dipped a rag in the water, slowly dragging it up his back. 

In his mind you looked him over with the same lust that he felt for you. Pictured the blush on your cheeks as you cleaned his body, trying to hold yourself back even though bathing him had been your idea. He wanted to see the parting of your lips as you let out a sigh, your body tensing as you realized how much you wanted him. 

He imagined it was your hand on his cock, you servicing him, wanting him as he wanted you. He pictured your dress slipping from your shoulders onto the ground, your bare body in front of him, everything he had wanted right at his fingertips as you stepped into the tub with him. Straddling his waist as you sank down onto him, your perfect mouth letting out a sensual moan as you became filled with him.

Without his consent his hand moved harder, his hips bucking in desperation, as if the more he wanted it the more chance it had of coming true. 

Your hands were on his shoulders, your lips capturing his over and over between the moans and gasps that were coming from the both of you. He wanted you to move as if you had been just as needy and hopeless in your pursuit of him as he was in you. 

The thought of you digging your nails into his back and climaxing was what made him come undone. He bit his lip to keep his sound down as he came into his hand, his movements frantic and jerky as he came for the first time in a very long time. 

His body shivered as he took a moment to compose himself, wiping it off onto a rag. He must have been in here a long time, and he didn’t want you to suspect anything. 

Standing, he dried himself off and put on the clothes that you had made just for him. They were actually a little big, even for him. It made him smile. You must have just guessed at his size.

Grabbing his old clothes off the floor, he walked into the living room, feeling more at ease than he had felt in he didn’t know how long.

“It’s ready, Mr. Frankenstein.” You said from the stove, flashing him a smile when you saw he was wearing the clothes you had made him. “Do they fit?”

“Just about.” He smiled back, holding out his arms so you could see how his clothes looked. “Thank you. It’s been a while since I’ve had new clothes.”

“Well, toss those old clothes in the laundry basket outside and I’ll get to them after dinner.” You said, putting the soup in bowls. 

He nodded, stepping outside to put away his dirty clothes. He couldn’t see how your eyes lingered on his back, or the way your ears turned red at how exposed his chest had been when the collar of his shirt had dipped a bit too low thanks to your guess at his measurements, or how his wet hair had stuck to his still-damp skin. 

Exhaling slowly, you started setting the table for dinner, ignoring the feelings that had been boiling in your chest since the first night he had shown up at your home.


	5. Bed

You hurried around the small home, cleaning up as best as you could. The couch where Mr. Frankenstein slept every night was already beginning to get an indent from his weight. You flipped over the cushions, hoping that would temporarily fix the problem. The couch made alarming groaning noises every time he sat on it, and often you heard the groans all through the night when he shifted in his sleep. 

Having a small home had never bothered you too terribly much. Living minimally never bothered you either. You didn’t need things; you had a home you loved and freedom and food. What you didn’t like was that you didn’t have a true room for your guest to sleep in and live in.

He never complained about his lack of privacy or room, of course. That didn’t stop you from feeling guilty. Ever since he had shown up at your door, he had practically run the entire household singlehandedly. It seemed that whenever there was a chore that needed doing he had done it before you had the chance. Thus, why you were hurrying to clean before he got done with the outside chores.

Heavy footsteps outside alerted you that you were too late. A moment later he stepped in the door, sweat making his hair stick to his forehead. His lips turned up into a smile when he saw you straightening up, wiping his brow as he walked deeper into the house.

“Is it hot out?” You asked dumbly, finishing up your task. You sat down on the rocking chair next to the couch, reaching into your project basket and pulling out a new pair of pants you had been working on for him. The first pair you’d made was just a bit too big, and aside from that, a working man needed more than two pairs of pants. 

He shook his head, sitting on the couch, waiting for the groaning of the old wood to stop before he replied. “It’s not too warm, just muggy.”

“Hm.” You hummed, going back to sewing. You wished you had more to say to him. Unfortunately, when you were around someone day in and day out every day, it was entirely too easy to run out of things to say. He knew everything noteworthy that happened to you every day because he was there. 

Mr. Frankenstein didn’t seem to mind as he rested his head on the back of the couch, closing his eyes. 

You slowed your work, taking a moment to look at him. He was wearing the green shirt you had made for him, the one that showed off just a bit too much of his chest. No matter how much you liked the sight, it was too open for him to wear if he ever agreed to go to town to you. You were debating adding tassels to the collar so that he could tie it shut.

Amazingly, the green in his shirt accented his greyish skin in a flattering way you couldn’t quite explain. It certainly made his black hair look good. If you were being honest with yourself, you’d have to admit that he would look good no matter what you put on him.

“You should sleep in the bed tonight.” You heard yourself say.

His eyes snapped open as he straightened up, looking at you with such surprise your stomach instantly sank in embarrassment. 

“Oh, I mean, I’ll take the couch!” You dropped your sewing, holding up your hands as if you could block out his expression. “You work so hard, you should take the bed at least this once.”

Heart racing in his chest, the creature let out a long, silent breath as he realized the meaning of your words were entirely innocent. He took a moment to kick himself for thinking so crudely before he once again settled into his spot on the couch.

“I couldn’t take the bed from you.” He mumbled, closing his eyes once again. Closing his eyes was the best way to not look at you, no matter how his lust didn’t care if you were in his line of sight or not. 

“Please?” You said in a voice so small and unsure the lust in his chest crashed against his ribcage like a tidal wave. Though he knew your intentions were pure, the need burning in his body was not. He didn’t want to sleep in that bed unless you were beside him. He ground his teeth together as you spoke up again. “You deserve to sleep in an actual bed at least once for all of this work you’ve been doing.”

In his mind’s eye he pictured you asking to repay him by sharing the bed. He would refuse at first, as a gentleman ought to, but you would persist. 

“I’ve expressed many times before that it is me who is repaying you, not you who owes me a debt.” He mumbled.

This isn’t just repayment. You said in his mind, your fingers trailing along your own collar bones. Delicate and beautiful and want seeping into your every movement. 

“It isn’t about repayment.” You said in reality. What you said was so similar to his fantasy he couldn’t help but open his eyes again, glancing in your direction to make sure that it was still the chase and normal you that was sitting in front of him and not the lustful version of you he nurtured in his head. 

You picked your sewing back up, not meeting his eye. “I’m grateful to you. I want you to be comfortable. Surely you will be better rested if you get a better night’s sleep.”

“As I’ve thought since the first night you allowed me to stay here, you’re too kind for your own good.” He rose, walking to the stovetop and preparing the kettle to make tea. “First you let me into your house and now you let me take over your bed?”

Swallowing nervously at his choice of words, you kept your eyes trained on your task at hand, knowing the slippery slope that could come from being overly generous. Too many times had you been taken advantage of when your kindness meshed with weakness and you simply gave too much. “I trust that you aren’t the type of man who would take more than is offered.”

The creature almost chuckled at that. He was not a man by most terms. “I wouldn’t. But it makes me worry for you.”

“I understand.” You said, flinching when you pricked yourself with the needle. “But all I am offering is a night of good rest.”

“I know.” He replied, hating how strained his voice sounded. He pulled out two cups as the kettle began to whistle. “But I will not take your bed from you. I can’t become more indebted to you than I already am.”

He poured the water into the cups, watching how the darkness of the tea at first spread through the water like tendrils of mist on a cold fall morning before settling at the bottom of the mug. Slowly, the color rose to dye the entirety of the liquid. It was a fascinating process, when he watched it closely. Only a tiny bit of color, and yet the entirety of the water could be changed and turned into something it wasn’t before, and it could never be changed back to normal water. It was tea now, and that was that. 

Picking up the mug, he slowly swirled the water around, watching the even color swirl in the ceramic. It sounded so scientific. He almost wondered if his father would be proud before disregarding the thought altogether. Victor Frankenstein would never be proud of him. 

“Here.” He mumbled, turning to you. “I made you some too.” He crossed the small cabin, handing the mug to you. 

Setting down your project you reached for it, the tips of your fingers overlapping his. He made a move to pull away, as he often did when the two of you accidentally touched, but you pressed your fingers down on his, holding them in place.

He glanced at you, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. You yourself weren’t sure what you were doing. You just didn’t want him to pull away just yet. Until you remembered that the mug must be hot on his fingers.

You pulled the mug to you, glancing out the window as if nothing had happened. His hand hovered in the spot you had first grabbed the mug before he let it fall back to his side. 

“I’ll take the bed tonight.” He said softly, tracing the profile of your face with his eyes.

You turned back to him. “Really?”

He nodded, slowly crouching by your side, resting his hand on the arm of the rocking chair. He swallowed, words that he knew could not be unsaid rising in his throat. 

“I truly don’t want to admit this.” He started, letting out a strained sigh, his eyes darting away. He sighed once more, bringing his eyes back to your face, knowing you deserved a proper confession, no matter what happened next. “It is likely that you will banish me from your sight and you would be right in doing so, but I cannot let these feelings lie a moment longer. I-… I would like to be more than a farmhand. I want to be your man. I want a lot from you that I know I shouldn’t ask for. 

“I don’t know a lot about love, or lust, not in practice. But I know I want you. And I know that I think about you constantly in shameful ways that-. I’m sorry. I don’t-.” He sighed a third time, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what to do.” 

Your silence ripped him to shreds. He felt his body deflate as you brought your teacup to your lips, taking a slow sip. 

“It’s good.” You put the cup down on the windowsill, the fluttering and tightening in your chest nearly unbearable. He wanted you too. In all of the ways that you shamed yourself for, he wanted you too. You knew that you were expected to deny what he wanted, wait for marriage like you were taught in church. 

He kept his eyes on you, trying to read your expression. It was funny, just a moment ago he desperately wanted you, and now he desperately hoped that you would simply allow him to stay by your side and for life to go about like normal. 

Standing, you took a few steps forward, resting your hand on the wall. 

Every passing second was agony. His breath stopped as he watched your back, already wondering where he could go next after you kicked him out. 

You turned back to him, locking eyes. You bit the inside of your lip, looking away for a moment before looking back at him.

“Do you want to share the bed?” You finally said. 

He feared he hadn’t heard you correctly. He just looked at you for a moment, trying to make sense of what he had just heard. Surely, there was no way that you had asked him-.

“Well?” You whispered, pressing your back against the wall. 

He had heard you right.

Shooting up off the ground, he nodded stupidly, opening his mouth to say something but unsure what to say to someone who had just given him everything. “Yes.” He finally settled on saying. “Yes, yes.”

You smiled slightly, holding out your hand to him. Heat was rising up your neck and to your cheeks, apprehension in your stomach. You wondered if he could see how nervous you were.

If he did, he showed no signs of noticing it. He reached his hand out, taking yours, walking closer to you until your chests were almost touching. He towered over you normally, but now that he was mere inches from you, he seemed that much taller. 

His eyes scanned your face, unable to hide his own nervousness from you. His hair tickled your face as he brought himself closer to you.

“May I kiss you? Are you sure you want that?” He breathed, resting his forehead on yours.

“I’ve wanted it since that first night.” You brought your hands to his chest, tilting your head back so your noses were touching. “It wasn’t just you who has wanted these things.”

He didn’t waste another second once consent came from your lips. He kissed you, at first tentatively, nervousness obvious even in his touch. When you kissed back, the nervousness gave away to need. He let out a breath against your lips before kissing you again with full vigor, pressing his hands against the wall on either side of your head as he did. 

Not one to be outmatched, you kissed him back with just as much force, making an excited shiver run up his spine. The muscles in his arms tensed as he pressed harder against the wall, wanting to touch more of you but refusing to do so without your permission. His fingers curled into fists, his hips rolling of their own accord. 

Your lips parted for a moment to catch your breath, but he only kissed you deeper, letting his own lips part with yours. You moaned at the discovery of this new eroticism being added to this kiss, flicking out your tongue just enough to lightly trace his bottom lip. 

Your abdomen tightened when his tongue came out to meet yours, just teasing the tip of your tongue with his. He moaned lowly into the kiss, pulling back his tongue and instead lightly biting on your bottom lip. You whimpered, reaching up and digging your hands into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He groaned, pulling back by only a hair, so that your lips continued to graze when he asked, “Please. Let me touch you?”

“Take me to bed.” You breathed, gently tugging on his hair and smiling against his lips, kissing him again. 

His chest swelled with joy as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you to his chest like he had wanted to do for so long. You were so warm, you felt so nice, he never wanted this moment to end. 

Though he was without practice, he tried his best to smoothly pick you up and take you to the bedroom. Hooking his hands under your knees and behind your back, he lifted you slowly, beginning to walk you to the bed. He broke the kiss only to make sure that he wasn’t about to run you into anything, gently setting you down on the bed. 

You smiled, giggling nervously as he looked at you. “I don’t usually…”

“Me either.” He shook his head, slowly climbing over you. 

“I’m not-.”

“I know you aren’t.” He brought one of his hands to your face, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek. “I could never think poorly of you.”

Nuzzling your face into his hand, you looked up and down his body. “D-do we undress now?”

His eyes widened in realization, sitting back on his feet. He had wanted you so badly he forget that his body was different than most. You propped yourself up on your elbows, sensing his unease.

“Mr. Frankenstein?”

Licking his lips to wet them, he looked down at his shirt. “My body would be considered horrifying to most.”

“Do you mean these?” You asked, carefully touching the scar near the bottom of his neck. “I’ve noticed that, I don’t think anything of it.”

“That’s not the only one.” He said slowly. “They’re all over my body.”

Sitting up, you kissed him again. He melted against your lips, cupping your face as he kissed you back. You kissed him several more times, each time as passionate as the last, lying backwards and pulling him over you again.

“I don’t mind.” You gasped against his lips, kissing him again.

He nodded against you, not breaking the kiss as he began to undress himself. You followed suit, your hands shaking as you unlaced your dress. At least it seemed that he was as nervous as you. 

The two of you had to break the kiss when he took his shirt off. You took the moment of freedom to slip out of your dress, and your undergarments to follow. He then pulled down his pants, kicking them off his legs. 

There the two of you were, finally naked. You looked over his body, at the abundant scars that littered his body. Those were surprising, but when your eyes fell on his erection any and all thoughts of his scars flew out the window.

“That’s-.” You started, putting a hand over your mouth. 

He took a moment out of admiring your body to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry. I know, they’re disgusting.” 

“No, no!” You shook your head, resting your hand on his chest. “That’s not what I was talking about!”

“Then…?” 

“I-. I wasn’t looking at those.” You looked away, heat rising in your cheeks again. “I meant your, uh. Not the scars.”

A smile threatened to tug at his mouth when he realized what it was about him that had made you react the way you did. “Not the scars?”

You just shook your head, a nervous giggle escaping you. “Don’t make me say it.”

He just grinned and kissed you again, pride welling in his chest at your reaction to him. You kissed him back, tangling your fingers in his hair once more. He pressed himself against you as you kissed, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer to you. You could feel his cock grinding on you, which only made you need him more.

“You’re so beautiful.” He growled out between kisses, his lips only barely leaving yours to get the words out. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

Moaning, your hips rose to meet his, your body instinctively knowing the basics of what to do. 

“You’re so handsome.” You whined against his lips, wanting him to know just how much you admired him back. 

As you ground harder, he began to grind back, rubbing his cock against your heat, wetting his cock with you. His breathing grew harder, his need for you only growing as you made such tantalizing sounds beneath him.

“I need you.” He gasped, running a hand down the side of your body. “I need you.”

“I need you too.” You kissed his neck, running your nails down his shoulders. “I’m ready for you.”

He sighed shakily, gently pushing into you as slowly as he could. 

You bit your lip in pain. It hurt a bit, but not too badly. You put your hand on his bicep, breathing out slowly.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly, looking you up and down. 

Taking another deep breath you nodded, giving him a smile. “Just unused to the feeling.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “First time for everything.”

You giggled, looking up at him. “Move? Just slowly.”

“Of course.” He murmured, kissing your forehead again before slowly slipping out of you. He gave you a moment before pushing back into you, watching your expression carefully. 

“Oh.” You breathed, closing your eyes. “It’s-it’s better.”

He took that as permission to keep moving, slowly thrusting into you, making to watch your reactions to make sure he wasn’t hurting you. Though he was ignorant in most things, he knew he was well endowed. He’d been designed to have the best of everything, after all. 

Moaning lowly, you tentatively moved your hips with his, gasping at the feeling of pleasure that came with it. The tightening in your abdomen was more consistent now, and now you knew that this feeling was pure want and need in your body. And the feeling was telling you to keep chasing after these movements that were bringing you pleasure.

You began bucking your hips up into his harder, gasp after gasp escaping your lips as he filled you over and over again with every thrust. His low groans only spurred you on further, now using your legs to pull him as deeply into you as he could.

“Harder.” You whimpered, your body already craving more than what was being given.

He groaned in relief, not wasting a moment to thrust into you harder, his own body begging for more as well. You were so hot and wet all around him, it was better than anything he had ever imagined. The sight of your naked body beneath his was an image he could never forget, especially when your eyelids fluttered in pleasure. 

He might have been made to be perfect, but you were absolute perfection. And you were his. He was holding you in his arms and he was making you wet and he was making your face twist into these perfect expressions.

You unwrapped your legs from his torso, planting your feet into the bed and thrusting your hips up to meet his, picking up the temp. He gasped in surprise before flashing you a grin, picking up his own pace to meet yours.

The tight feeling only grew, you could feel something coming, like a damn that was about to break. It wasn’t there yet, but it was close, and it scared you in the best of ways. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He clutched the sheets on either side of your head, his entire body tensing as he thrust into you. He wanted to cum, but he wasn’t going to until he knew that you would walk away completely satisfied in every way you could want. Or better yet, if you couldn’t walk away at all. 

As the two of you moved together, he found himself repeating your name like a mantra as he felt himself growing closer to finishing. He wasn’t even fully aware he was doing it, but with every thrust he said your name as if it was the only word he knew.

“P-please…!” You suddenly cried, snapping him to attention.

“Wh-what?” He asked, the sound of your voice begging for something almost finishing him in that very moment.

“Tell me-.” You whined and curled up against him, your nails digging into his skin. “Y-your name. I want to say it, but-!”

He gasped softly, biting his own cheek to bring himself back into the moment. You needed him. “I’m sorry.” He leaned down, kissing your ear, admiring the curve of your neck. “I don’t have one, I’d want nothing more than to hear my name pass your lips, but I don’t have one.”

You turned your face away, unbelieving. He saw the hurt in your eyes at his insistence at never telling you his name – not matter how true it was that he had none. 

“N-name me.” He grunted through his thrusting. “Pick a name for me and scream it!” 

Whimpering, you wracked your brain for a name, though all you could truly think about was how good your body felt. You didn’t believe him, but you wanted to say his name when your body finally went over this edge you could feel creeping closer. “W-William?” You gasped, saying the first name that came to mind.

“William, yes, I love it.” He moved harder and more erratically, looking over your face with admiration. “I’m your William.”

Clinging to him, you felt your body tensing against your will as you fell over the edge. “William!” You screamed, your back arching off of the bed. 

Gasping from the effort, he let himself let go, cumming while you were still in the throws of your own orgasm. Your moans and whimpers were like music to his ears as he thrust into you as fast as he could before slowing, the two of you coming down together. 

He sighed and rested his head on your chest, shivering slightly. You were still out of it, lightly touching his back as you tried to find your way back down to earth.

“William.” He mumbled into your hair. “William Frankenstein.” 

“Do you like the name?” You asked breathlessly, wrapping your arms around him. You still didn’t believe that he had no name, but the wonder in his voice at the one you had chosen swayed you.

“I love it.” He kissed your ear. “It came from you.”

“Well, I should probably make dinner.” You said, though you just wanted to close your eyes for a minute.

He enabled you by holding you in place, a smile on his face. “Lie here with me for a while.”

You closed your eyes, giggling softly when he nuzzled his face against yours. You weren’t scared of this decision to make love to him. Something that felt so right could only lead to more good things.


	6. The Morning

Both of you had fallen asleep without dinner. Not that either of you minded, both of you were worn out from making love for the first time together. The first to rise was the creature. But no, it wasn’t the creature anymore. He had a name now.

William, William. He didn’t think that he looked much like a William, but he supposed that anyone could look like any name if they were given it. Perhaps he just had to grow into the new name? After all, every other William on earth had time to grow into their name, why should he be so different? It was better than having to live his life without having something to call himself. And the first time his new name was spoken was when it fell from your lips. He would hold onto this new name, as it was now his most prized possession.

He sat, half lying down and half propped up on his elbow, watching you sleep soundly by his side. The quiet sound of your breathing and the rising and falling of your chest were the song and dance of the angels. The movement of your eyes behind your eyelids as you slept was a sight befitting God. 

It would probably be assuming too much too soon to know what you wanted with him after sharing a night of love together. Whether he believed it to be possible or not, he still liked to imagine that you would now think of him as your husband. That, maybe, just maybe, you’d want children with him. Of course, that was too much to hope for so soon after waking up. Too many thoughts and too many uncertainties to think of. He would make himself sick if he kept worrying. So instead, he focused on you. 

His hand slowly enveloped yours, squeezing gently as to not stir you from your slumber. Your skin looked so different than his. After all, he was a yellowish green. The color of dead flesh versus the healthy color in your skin was incredibly obvious. 

William felt himself smiling as he lowered his head, brushing his lips over your knuckles, smiling more when his hair tickled your arm, making you squirm in your sleep. He retreated, not wanting to shatter this serine scene in front of him. 

What on earth did you see in him? He was aware of his own ugliness, of how no human on earth would ever find him handsome, or even tolerable. Between his unnatural height, to the color of his eyes, to the scars that littered his body like railroad tracks over the countryside, his maker had cemented William’s fate in being shunned and feared wherever he went. 

He let go of your hand, looking you over once more. He loved you with everything he had. He loved you. When he saw you, everything he believed was so out of his reach seemed to fit in the palm of his hand, if only he could be sure that you wanted the same things as him. 

Would you regret it when you awoke? He had stopped at every point he could think of to make sure you were comfortable; he had asked permission every step of the way, because he was terrified of the thought you were going along with what he wanted out of fear. Fear that he would hurt you – which he would never do! You had told him yes to each question, permission to everything, you had smiled that smile at him and kissed his lips, but there was still the fear polluting his chest that you feared him. No matter how he recalled the night before, no matter how much you said you liked it, the fear that he had unknowingly coerced you made a pit form in his stomach.

The fear ate at his stomach and weakened his resolve – he had to know now that you had enjoyed yourself as he had, he had to make sure. Reaching out, he grabbed your shoulder, gently shaking you awake.

“Hm?” You sat up, blinking slowly, your eyes scrunched up adorably. “What?” You mumbled.

William sat up, resting a hand on your back. “Good morning.”

You cast your tired eyes on him, and then out the window to see that it was still dark out. You breathed out and rested your head on his shoulder, blowing air out your nose. “It’s nighttime.” You grumbled, obviously still out of it.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He smiled down at you, wanting to pull you into his arms and kiss you a thousand times. But he had more pressing things at hand. “I just had to talk to you about last night.”

“Last night?” You yawned; your face scrunched up in confusion. Until your eyebrows lifted and recollection spread across your features. Your mind caught up with not only memories from the night before, but to the fact that you were lying naked in your bed with your houseguest. 

Your hands flew to your mouth, embarrassment instantly heating your face. You’d had sex out of wedlock. “Oh. Oh. I’m not-! I’ve never-!” Tears sprung up in your eyes. You’d had sex out of wedlock. Why on earth that hadn’t crossed your mind the night before, you couldn’t say. “I was a virgin.” You managed. 

William, upon seeing the wetness in your eyes, felt the pit in his stomach grow. “I’m-. I’m so sorry.” He started, unsure if he should touch you to console you or stop touching you altogether. “I-if I scared you, I’m so sorry, I meant for both of us to enjoy it, it was never my intention to force myself on you!”

“Force yourself?” You looked over at him, temporarily distracted from your sin. “You didn’t force anything. It was my idea to go to bed together.”

Upon hearing conformation he had needed, he rested his head on your shoulder, tears forming in his eyes as well. “I got scared.” Was all he could choke out.

“Hey, hey.” You wrapped your arms around him, nuzzling your face in his hair. He smelled like decaying leaves. “No, why are you crying?”

“I got scared.” He repeated, pulling away from you, tears glistening on his dull skin. “I was scared that you would hate me.”

“No, no, what happened, that was for both of us.” You raised your hand to his face, wiping away his tears. In an odd way it made you feel better that he was just as scared as you, even if it was for a different reason than yourself. “I’m scared of going to hell, but I loved every moment of touching you.”

He nodded; just as avid as you in the words of the bible. Sex before marriage was fairly bad, but for a monstrosity such as himself it was the last of his sins he was going to worry about. You, on the other hand, he could understand why you would feel conflicted. Your sins were probably nothing compared to his very existence. 

His hand found yours, and you weaved your fingers into his as if it was something you had done every day. He slowly lifted your hand, kissing your bare knuckles, keeping his eyes on your face. The tension in your face dropped just a bit when he kissed your knuckles once more. 

“I love you.” He breathed against your skin, kissing up your arm. You watched him, breathing out slowly as he kissed up your arm, his lips soothing your nerves. He kissed until he got to the crook of your neck. He then let go of your hand, instead gently cradling your face in his hands, trailing kisses along your jaw, savoring the tiny gasp that escaped your lips. “I’ve loved you since the first night you let me stay here. I’ve longed and yearned and worshipped you every moment since I crossed your threshold.” He finally pulled back, resting his forehead on yours.

You stayed silent, looking into his eyes. The fears of heaven and hell dropped away as you were held by this larger than life man who stared at you with nothing but adoration. It felt as if there was no safer place than in his arms.

“I want to become one with you every night, every morning, every chance I get.” He whispered, his soft voice hypnotic. “I want to touch you and kiss your flesh wherever you will allow, I want to see you smiling and with a belly swollen with our child – if you would want that with something like me.” He swallowed, eyes glancing down to your stomach before looking back to you. “I want you for my wife. We might have gone about the order of things wrong, but I do, I want it, I long to keep your companionship for as long as we live.”

Fresh tears pricked at your eyes as you rested your hands on top of his, nodding quickly. 

A relieved smile spread across his face, gasping out a laugh. “Is that a yes?” He asked.

“Yes!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “Yes, I want to marry you!”

He laughed as well, burying his face in your hair. “Then we’ll be married!”

You wiped your eyes on his shoulder, trying to stop the tears from coming out. “That sounds perfect. We will be married, and then we can continue living like we already have been.” You pulled back and tapped his nose. “Except from now on, you get to sleep in a bed.” You teased.

Chuckling, he pulled you into his lap, kissing your collar bone. “I did enjoy sleeping in a real bed.”

Your face heated slightly, and though the part of you that feared judgment told you to wait, the part of you that was alive and in love wanted something entirely different as was much louder than its inverse counterpart. “Well, we’re awake now.”

Glancing up at you, he grinned slowly, running his hands up and down your back. “We are.”

“So, perhaps we should use the time we have.” You brushed a bit of hair away from his face. “To get stared on your need to become one every morning.”

Throwing his head back in a laugh, William pulled you tightly to his chest, his joy infectious, making you laugh as well. 

“And we will go out and get married after that!” He cheered, lying back on the bed, you by his side. You laughed at his enthusiasm and kissed him deeply, to which he kissed you back with all the joy of a newlywed.


	7. Married Life

William, that was the name that was bestowed to him the night you two made love. Though the two of you made a pact to be married in the morning, both of you knew that there was no place poor William could go that would allow a daemon such as himself to be married in a house of God. Besides, he was never truly born, so he didn’t really exist to the country he was in.

He never explained to you the circumstances of his ‘birth,’ but you seemed to understand on some level that he was not a natural thing, because there was no more talk of going to a church and getting married. On the other hand, the two of you continued as if you were already a married couple. Holding hands, lingering touches, and a type of intimacy that is only had between lovers.

“William, I made lunch!” You called from the front door. “Stop whatever you’re doing and eat while it’s hot!”

The creature looked up from his task, hidden behind a pile of wood. “I’ll be in soon!”

“Okay!” You called back, retreating back into the house. 

William turned back to his task at hand, which was turning out to be harder than he thought it would be with hands as big as his. In the brief time he had been alive, he had rarely plucked a flower from its home in the ground, much less made a flower chain. And what he was working on was so much more delicate than a flower chain.

Clover covered the area around him. Most of it was lucky enough to still be in the ground, but a fair sized pile was sitting in front of him, and many more rejects whose stems had broken scattered around him.

He was trying to make a ring. Just a simple band made of clover stems and a single flower on top in lieu of a diamond. It wouldn’t be much – in fact it was basically nothing at all. The ring would inevitably break, the clover dry out and flake away, tiny petal by tiny petal. Still, he felt he needed to give you a ring, no matter how temporary the jewelry would be. Maybe, in the smallest of ways, it would make up for not being able to truly get married. Maybe it would bring a bit of normalcy to you. 

Gingerly, he tied the stems in a way that made the clover stand up. It was awkward, and the knots were big and ugly in a very noticeable way. It was a very imperfect ring, but it was the only one that hadn’t broken when he tried to tie it together. It would have to do.

Rising from the ground, he walked to the house, smelling cooked chicken as he approached. Going through the front door, he saw you sitting at the table, two bowls in front of you, one for you and one for him. Chicken stew. The perfect thing for a day like today, which was a good day. 

You looked over at him and smiled. “I hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.” He replied, walking over. “But, I had something to do. I still do.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, turning in your seat to face him properly. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not wrong.” William crouched down by your side, running his hand through your hair. “I just had something that needed to get done.”

Your brow furrowed as you gently grabbed his wrist, guiding his hand to your cheek until he was cupping it. “What is it?”

He smiled, holding up the clover ring. “I’m sorry it isn’t much, but for now it’s all I can do.”

You stared at the awkwardly made clover ring. It was definitely made with his own two hands, and already it was starting to wilt.

“A wedding ring.” He whispered. “For you.”

“I love it.” You breathed. “I love it.”

“For my partner.” He took your hand, slipping it on your finger. “For my love. For the one person I could ever give my heart to.” 

The ring was tight on your finger, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. “I love it.” You repeated, bringing it to your nose and inhaling the gentle scent of the white clover flower. “It’s a marvelous present from my husband.”

A smile spread across his face, for he now knew you saw yourselves as married as much as he did. “Yes. Your husband.” He pulled you onto his lap, kissing you deeply, even though your lips were still in a smile and unable to kiss him back properly.


End file.
